I’m surrounded by photos of my Birth Mom, she’s young and smiling in one and in the next she’s wearing a beanie to cover the fact that cancer has stolen her hair. Cancer took her love of food, sleep and peace of mind more than once. What cancer couldn’t ever really take was her love of laughter. I can still that smile in her voice as she says “Call me tomorrow in the evening time, I’m going to visit with my brother for awhile.”
Her long soft hair used to cradle my face as I hugged her. There were quite a few times where our hugs would last for minutes. She would weep softly and say” I’m so sorry for everything babe.” Tears gave way to laughter and forgiveness. It does my heart good to know that it wasn’t all bad for us. I’ll cling to that knowledge forever. What I wouldn’t give for one more hug or conversation with her. I’m beyond grateful that cancer can no longer ravage her.
We used to laugh at just about anything she found funny. She always had a story to share and it usually involved my nephew. She used to spend hours outside visiting with anyone who would say hello. I used to worry when she’d venture out in the snow even though I knew she was covered from head to toe in winter gear. I miss her more than I can say.
I feel privileged to have been part of our country’s naval establishment. In my years as a Marine, I have known and worked with superb Navy officers. So, I enjoy relating stories about the best of the lot, as opposed to officers (of any service) who allowed politics to interfere with their obligations as officers: […]
via A Great Naval Officer — Fix Bayonets!
I’ve awakened at 4:40 since you left,
Open the blinds before the sun arrives.
Drink coffee while the house still sleeps,
Somehow I think you’re both here with me.
My tears have dried up quite a bit,
Still trying to figure out the darkness.
Slowly we’ve gotten back to living,
This vast brave new world of ours.
I’ve tucked your photos away too,
Dad’s smiling face now hangs on my wall.
Still trying to catch our collective breath,
This great vastness is where we miss you most.
4:40 and I’m up before the enemy,
Sitting in silent reflection putting armor on.
To live this life in honor of both of you,
Showing others the way out of the darkness.
©2018 SJ Falling Rock
All Rights Reserved
What did you do today?
I hope you lifted something that was heavy for you. It’s better to get used to being uncomfortable than it is to remain unchanged. To all that negative crap that might be floating around in your brain, tell it to fuck off/sit down shut up whatever just don’t let it flank you. If you have to take the day minute by minute hour by hour just don’t fucking quit! YOU HEAR ME DON’T QUIT!!!
It’s another day make the most of it and if you’re having a bad day then here’s to hoping that tomorrow is better.
From: the true story of America’s “wolf packs” and “life guard” teams – “Sink ’em All”. by Vice Admiral Charles A. Lockwood Jr., USN. “Uncle Charlie” spent 39 years in submersibles. My long-delayed visit to Admiral Fife’s command finally got underway in a PBM from Saipan, 20 July 1945. Cavite and Manila were pitiful to […]
via Submarine Warfare – July 1945 — Pacific Paratrooper
Numerous times a day I’ve spent looking at photos of my father and myself. Standing beside him his arms wrapped around me. Those dark soulful eyes that we both share full of unconditional love and happiness. It’s a late July afternoon and we take a photo together just before I get in the car to go back to my house and pack to go back to the new place I’ve called “Home” for sometime now.
He hugs me so tight that in that moment I feel as though I can conquer the world one day. He walks me to the car watches me get in and then bends down gives me another hug and says I love you, travel safe. I put on my best poker face to hide my tears. It’s always been hard leaving him. As we pull away he stands on the porch waving and smiling and then walks inside when we’re out of view.
Today almost 11 months since he took his last breath on this earth I sit staring at that same photo. I was still in school but was so excited about going home for a fortnight. Those dark brown eyes of his now offer me such reassurance and strength. I never imagined I would lose both my parents just months apart. Still I find strength in these photographic moments and remember that this grief is just a journey and not a place to stay. Life has carried on it’s powerful undertow carrying me away from them and to them all at one.
“One who claims to be a skeptic of one set of beliefs is actually a true believer in another set of beliefs.” — Phillip E. Johnson
via To be a skeptic | QOTD — Memoir Of A Writer